


Jeeves and the Truth of Science

by Johnlockedness



Category: Jeeves & Wooster
Genre: M/M, Slash, Yuletide Exchange 2011
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-28 15:24:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/309302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Johnlockedness/pseuds/Johnlockedness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Yuletide Exchange 2011, indeedsir.livejournal.com<br/>Original prompt: Bertie related hurt-comfort and first kisses by a cozy fire.<br/>Beta: Mice</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jeeves and the Truth of Science

When I regarded the barometer that morning I saw that a fierce storm combined with a depression would settle shortly on London. I glanced out of the window as I prepared breakfast for Mr. Wooster. The wind had indeed gained in its ferocity and the sky was coloured a dark grey, regardless of it being ten o'clock in the morning. There was no sign of any rain or snow yet, although I knew that the barometer told me it would come. It was early February and both the nights and the days were still dreadfully cold. Unfortunately I paid little further attention to it as I continued preparing Mr. Wooster’s breakfast.

As the day progressed the snowfall began, as I had expected, a little at first; nevertheless around luncheon vast drifts of snowflakes descended from the heavens.

“Jeeves, I will dine at the Drones tonight,” he told me as he looked up from the detective novel he was reading, sitting near where I was polishing the wood of his grand piano.

I looked up from my work, glancing out of the window. The frames were covered with a thick layer of snow. I turned my gaze back to him, meeting his eye. “I could not advise it, sir.”

“Oh, what rot Jeeves.” I turned my eyes resolutely to the ceiling. I knew a bit of snow wouldn’t harm him, but if it kept snowing as it did now, or got worse, the pavements and roads would be covered with such a thick layers of snow and ice that, most probably, cabs wouldn’t drive any longer and I did not want my employer to walk home in such harsh conditions. “Sir, the barometer…” I began but he interrupted me.

“Jeeves, the barowhatsit can go boil its head.” He sounded slightly annoyed, probably not wanting to have this argument over the weather. “Could you please finish polishing the grand, get me a b. and s., and dress me for dinner? I will hear no more.” He frowned at me, waiting for a contradiction, but I held my tongue except for a “Very good, sir,” and I proceeded with my tasks.

After I had called a cab and saw Mr. Wooster out of the flat I cursed myself for my thoughtlessness. The weather was frightful and I hoped my employer would not be so stubborn as to walk home if the cabs stopped driving because of the heavy snowfall. I paced the sitting room for a few moments before I decided that, if the weather became more fierce, I would telephone the Drones Club around the time I knew Mr. Wooster would usually depart, to inquire whether or not he would stay for the night. I tried to put my mind at rest.

Not only did I want to secure his safety, as it was part of my employment, I genuinely cared for him, perhaps more than a gentleman’s personal gentleman should care for his gentleman. His stubbornness was so like mine that we often had arguments over matters that were relatively unimportant. Sadly, this resulted in the fact that whenever I did have something important to say he usually waved it away before properly thinking the issue over.

I suspect that he was right when he wrote the following in one of his narratives: _‘I suppose that when two men of iron will live in close association with one another, there are bound to be occasional clashes.’_

I decided to give the matter no more thought for now, and that I would telephone when I thought it necessary. I prepared a light dinner for myself, used the lavatory, and settled myself down in the sitting room with an improving book, near the window where I could observe the weather. I knew it was not my place, but I was determined to preserve my Masters safety whenever necessary.

~*~

I must admit that when the cab drove me to the Drones, I finally gave the matter Jeeves told me about proper thought, and I was frightfully afraid that he might have been right. He always is, although I’m too iron of will to immediately see it. I brought the matter to a close and told myself not to fret so much. I would see where the evening would lead.

Dinner at the Drones was topping but not up to the standards of what Jeeves would normally bung in front of the young Master. I shared a few w. and s. and some spiffing cocktails with Barmy and Catsmeat before Bingo came along and pained the old melon with tales of tender goddesses descending from the heavens. Catsmeat retreated as soon as Bingo started swooning about the fillies but, luckily, Barmy remained at my side during the tale, now and then sharing glances with yours truly or raising an eyebrow at Bingo’s tale. Fortunately Bingo didn’t ask for any advice -- not that he would ask me for any said a., because he would usually biff off to find Jeeves. And since Jeeves wasn’t here, there wasn’t anyone to biff off to.

The man seems to know a solution to everything -- Jeeves that is, not Bingo. He’s a bloody marvel. And I often wonder if he could come up with a solution to my brain twister. I, too, felt a romantic pash for a certain person, though I am sure I wasn’t to look for Jeeves’s guidance in this particular matter.

Said p. was in fact my valet, Jeeves, and one doesn’t biff off with one’s employee, it just isn’t done. I suddenly felt all downhearted, and I must have been gaping because Bingo stopped talking and both he and Barmy were staring at me like I was a loony.

“You look a fright Bertie. Is everything all right?” Barmy asked, as I clasped my head between my hands.

“I’m all right really, just a bally headache,” I lied. My head did hurt just a bit, but I couldn’t go tell my chums what was really on my mind now, could I?

“Why don’t you get a bit of a lie down, Bertie?” Bingo suggested, ushering me to my feet. I looked at him. “Sleep here? You’re blithering, my good man.”

“You're not thinking of going out in this weather are you?” Barmy laughed, but stopped when he saw the look on my face. “You are? Bertie there’s a hefty snowstorm going on outside, you can’t possibly wander off. Rogers told me the cabs stopped driving some hours ago. Surely you will stay here.”

It took me a moment to ponder these facts. Walking home would be terribly cold, but it was only a few blocks away.

“Come on, Bertie, you’ve had quite enough beverages for tonight.” It took both Barmy and Bingo to steer me towards the guestrooms. I honestly couldn’t remember drinking that much. Something popped at that mo. I didn’t want to sleep here. Jeeves would be waiting for me. I was determined to go home.

“I’m fine, truly. I think I will just stroll home; it’s not that far to the old homestead.” I shrugged the chaps from my arms, ignoring their calls of protest and headed towards the entrance hall, where I met Rogers.

“My hat and coat if you please, Rogers.” He frowned at me but complied.

“I could not advise it sir, the weather is dreadful and…”

“The cabs aren’t driving. I know Rogers, I've heard all. I will walk home.”

He helped me to put on my coat. “But, sir,” he said, as he handed me my scarf, gloves, stick and hat. “I see you that you insist. But please sir, be careful, I wouldn’t want to be responsible for any injuries on your part.”

“I am my own man, Rogers, I bear my own responsibilities. I will be fine.”

“If you say so, sir.” He sounded extraordinary peevish, but I ignored his silent persistence to keep me here.

“I do. Toodlepip.” I meant it to sting. He rather reminded me of Jeeves when he was soupy, and that didn’t help to improve my mood at all. I figured it had to be a servant thing.

It was bally cold outside and, for a short mo., I thought of going back in, but the only place I really wanted to be right now was home, near Jeeves and, after having rather made an exit, I proceeded to make my way through a thick sheet of snow. I sunk through the mounds of white with every step I took and it took quite an effort to lift up the Wooster feet. I never knew snow was so dashed heavy to walk through. Not to mention the wind that was absolutely freezing and somehow finding its way through my coat and jacket, chilling the Wooster corpus to the bone. On top of that, a vast amount of snow that was blown into my face, and my ears felt like bally icicles. With my right arm clasped around my chest, and the gloved hand holding my walking stick while the other grasped my hat tightly so it wouldn’t be blown away, I tried to make my way home.

The buildings were dashed hard to recognize in this storm because my vision was somewhat dimmed by the billions of snowflakes that whirled down. I knew I was close to the flat though. A few more yards straight ahead and then to the left and the old homestead would be in sight. I’m afraid I paid too little attention while taking the right turn, because I suddenly felt my legs slip from under me and I fell to the street with my bottom hitting the hard, cold, and icy pavement and my left leg nearly folding double under my weight.

An intense pain shot through me and I howled from the sheer agony. I clutched at my ankle, which hurt like the bally dickens. I tried to stand, clutching a nearby lantern post, but I couldn’t walk. I had my walking stick of course, but I wasn’t willing to risk that thing slipping away from under me and doing more damage. My ankle throbbed and I felt quite miserable as I stood in the cold night, not a soul around, as I considered my options. After a few minutes my right leg tired and I sagged back down to the ground, feeling completely rotten and frozen to the bone.

~*~

As the weather developed into a blizzard, I actually felt relief settle over me. Surely Mr. Wooster wouldn’t dare to go out in this weather. I knew there were guest rooms at the Drones Club and I was certain that Mr. Wooster would take a room there for the night.  
Just to put myself psychologically at ease, I made the telephone call I had been dreading all evening. It was past midnight.

“Good evening, the Drones Club, Rogers speaking. How can I serve you?”

“Good evening Mr. Rogers,” I said. “This is Jeeves, Mr. Wooster’s gentleman’s personal gentleman.”

“Ah, Mr. Jeeves, sir! How may I be of service?”

“I telephoned to inquire whether Mr. Wooster took a room for the night.”

The short pause told me enough and in that instant I felt my heart shatter.

“Mr. Wooster left the building a little less than an hour and half ago, Mr. Jeeves.”

Nearly one and half an hours? Undoubtedly he would have told me if he would stay somewhere else for the night.

“You let him leave? In this weather?” I asked incredulously, my tone stony as I stared into the sitting room. My eyes closed for a second in desperation, but it only took an instant to compose myself.

“I’m afraid Mr. Wooster was most insistent, Mr. Jeeves.” The man sounded like he had shrunk a foot.

I softened a bit, my tone severe nonetheless. “Did Mr. Wooster report to where he was departing to?”

“Yes he did, he told me he would be heading home.”

“Thank you Mr. Rogers, I know enough.”

“If there is anything I can do Mr. Jeeves, please let me know.”

“I will, good night.” And with that I ended our brief conversation.

I paced the sitting room as I contemplated my next move. He might have been robbed, left freezing to death in an alley. Or he might have slipped and broken his leg, unable to move. Not many people were out with these conditions at this time of night. I glanced at the clock. It was one o'clock in the morning. It crossed my mind that he might be warm in bed by now, but I thought that possibility remote since he had told Mr. Rogers he would be heading home.

I suddenly felt very cold inside and slightly sick. I took a few deep breaths and let the wave of panic wash over me.

I wrapped myself up in my coat, but left my bowler, since it would not suffice in the heavy wind. I ran down the stairs as if the building were on fire. I had to go out and look for Mr. Wooster myself. When I arrived at the entrance hall, my eyes met Mr. Jarvis, the doorman, accompanied by a policeman. I froze and my heart sank, fearing the worst.

“Ah ,Mr. Jeeves!” Mr. Jarvis exclaimed. “I was just about to call you! We need your help getting Mr. Wooster to his flat, you see. He most probably sprained an ankle, and is unable to walk without our help.”

“He is alive?” I said, speaking before I was aware of what I just said and I cursed myself for the lapse.

The policeman chuckled. “Very much so, sir.”

“Thank you, Mr. Jarvis.” I shook his hand as relief washed over me. Mr. Jarvis led us to a room where they had, most probably, seated Mr. Wooster as they planned to call me downstairs.

“Don’t thank me, thank Mr. Thorp here, he’s the man who found Mr. Wooster,” he said opening the door to the room.

“I found Mr. Wooster covered in snow, sitting on the pavement. I thought to myself, no one with a balanced mind would go sitting on the pavement on this cold night, and I was proven right, for the gentleman had sprained his ankle, you see. He was lucky I was patrolling the streets at this hour sir. Very few are on duty in such conditions. If hadn’t found him, he might have frozen to death.”

My eyes met with a sight I will never forget. Huddled in a blanket was my employer, looking paler than I had ever seen him before. His lips had coloured a sick purplish blue that did not suit him, and I shivered with dismay. They undoubtedly must have been extremely painful. Some flecks of snow where still nestled in his hair, but most had been melted by now, leaving his hair icily wet. His trousers and shoes were plastered with ice and snow, as must have been the rest of his body, but I could not see because of the thick blanket he was covered with.  
He looked up at me, his eyes half closed, shivering against the cold he had endured.

“I’m so cold, Jeeves,” he whispered through chattering teeth.

~*~

I can’t remember much between me sagging down into the snow, the policeman that picked me up and brought me to the flat, and the journey up the lift to my home. Jeeves thanked the policeman and Mr. Jarvis, and closed the door.  
He divested me of my outer layers in the middle of the sitting room. He took extra care in removing my trousers, and the sock and shoe from my left leg, as I'd indicated my injury. He carefully deposited my naked form on the sofa and lifted my left leg very gently to rest on the sofa as well. He brought clean, dry towels and blankets and wrapped me firmly up in them, drying my hair with one of the towels he hadn’t wrapped me up with.

My bean swirled and throbbed painfully, just like my injured ankle. Well, it throbbed, but it didn’t actually swirl. It had coloured an angry red, and a nasty egg started to develop. He started a fire in the hearth, shoved the table out of the way, and gently, probably not wanting to damage the carpet, shoved the sofa closer to the roaring fire. Within minutes I felt the Wooster corpus finally defrost. Unfortunately, Jeeves came back from the kitchen with a towel full of ice and set it on top of the i. a.

“Ai! Jeeves,” I gasped. “Honestly, my dear man, I can’t even feel my feet. Do you really think this necessary?” I winced from the cold but also from the shrieking pain of the icy contact.

“I am sorry sir, but I am afraid that if you do not keep it iced it will swell up terribly.”

“It’s already swollen,” I said sulkily.

“Indeed, sir. I will telephone a physician first thing in the morning.”

I glowered. “Do you have something for the pain Jeeves? I feel positively rotten.”

“Of course sir.” He biffed off to where he keeps the blasted painkillers.

He returned shortly with the medicine and a glass of water. I swallowed them down and handed the glass back to him. I was shivering and sulking. The fire had helped. I felt all tingly, but after a minute or two my feet, hands, and especially my ears started to hurt as badly as if someone stuck a thousand little needles into them.

Jeeves noted my discomfort and was at my side immediately. He picked up a spare towel, folded it double in his hands and started to rub my good foot in them.

“It hurts, Jeeves,” I chattered through my teeth, as if the cold had returned somehow.

“The blood flow is returning to your limbs, sir. This is usually paired with an effervescent sensation, the one you are experiencing at the moment, sir.”

“Make it go away, Jeeves, please,” I wailed. The rubbing helped but it was still very uncomfortable.

Jeeves continued his rubbing, searching my eyes when he finished my right foot. “Leave the other Jeeves, it already looks like it’s going to fall off.” It actually did at that, with the icepack upon my ankle and the paleness of my toes. Jeeves hesitated for a moment but complied. “Very good, sir.”

“It would probably hurt too much if you touched it anyway.” I said, wishing he could rub my foot, though it was really painful the way it tingled.

“Your hands, sir?” He held the towel open for my hands but I refused.

“My hands are fine old top. Well, not really, but my ears actually hurt a lot more. You don’t think you could get them warmed up?” I asked hopefully.

This was slightly awkward, as I knew how sensitive my ears were. But they were in pain and Jeeves must have seen it, for he obeyed.

Now, I quite expected him to stand behind me and do his magic, but he didn’t, you see. Stand behind me that is. He did do his magic, but not quite as I thought he would. Instead he kneeled in front of me, gently clasping both of my ears in his hands and massaging tenderly. Well, I mean to say, what?

He tried to keep his touch professional, but it was not working for me. Or you could say that it actually WAS working for me, if you still follow.

I didn’t know where to keep my eyes, so I stared into the fire, watching the embers glow beneath the roaring flames.

“Do I give satisfaction, sir?” My eyes snapped back to him and he was looking directly into mine, the expression on his face placid, but there was a sparkle in his eyes that I had never seen before. I wondered why he had suddenly become so bold and decided to give him a bit of cheek in return.

“No,” I said. “You are not offering me any satisfaction, actually.” My voice was hoarse and I shivered, though not from the cold this time.  
Jeeves ceased his massaging my ears, which now glowed like two glowing things in his hands.

“No?” he asked incredulously. “Then please tell me, sir, which of my services would match your wishes?” he asked, his gaze flickering from my slightly sore lips back to my eyes.

“My wishes, Jeeves?” I asked, my eyes drifting closed, feeling his breath on my cheek.

Jeeves leaned forward, his hands gliding from my ears to cup my jaw. “Ours, sir,” he whispered against my lips, as mine and his met for the first time. He kissed me softly, just a brief touch of lips, and slipped one of his hands along my throat to touch my neck.

My hands clutched at his lapels as Jeeves shifted forward and sat down next to where I was sitting on the sofa. I nipped at his lower lip and he opened his warm mouth for me. I kissed him again and again, slipping my tongue inside his mouth and meeting his in a very wet and warm dance.  
Well, I say, this was exactly what the Wooster corpus needed to warm up. I wouldn’t mind getting caught in a blizzard more often if it resulted into this particular activity. I was feeling absolutely aglow, all feeling of cold and discomfort leaving me.

I broke our silent exploration and looked at him in wonder. He gave me a mere moment to catch my breath before he made a strangled sort of sound and plunged forward kissing me roughly, hungrily, like a babe searching for its mother’s teat.

Our kiss deepened, his tongue exploring the depths of mine now, gently caressing the roof of my mouth, the insides of my cheeks, my teeth, and wrestling with my own tongue. We drank from each other’s mouths as if we were in the bloody Sahara, savouring every drop of moisture. My lips felt numb but I never wanted it to end.

~*~

I do not know why I challenged him so boldly and I stopped caring when his lips touched mine. He was intoxicating, his mouth more exquisite than the finest Scotch I had ever sipped. He entranced me, and we explored each other’s for Lord knows how long. I lost track of time, my wit, and my senses; all I knew was this marvellous creature beneath me.

My hands roamed freely of their own accord, and I loved the little sounds Mr. Wooster made as I caressed his side, touched his ear or gently pinched a nipple. Our noses bumped quite forcefully and he gasped settling his forehead against mine. He laughed quietly, the sound warming my heart. One of his hands that clutched at my lapels touched my nose, checking for any damage before he touched his own.

“Sorry old thing.” He smiled. He looked at me and tried to pull himself a bit up right but he winced as he tried to push himself up with his injured leg.

“Ouch! Bugger, I had quite forgotten that.” He pouted pathetically but grew concerned when he examined me.

“Jeeves are you all right?” I took a deep breath. “You are trembling all over, old fruit.”

Indeed, I was. “I fear I’m a little overcome, sir.” I saw relief ebbing back into his face. “I will be better directly, sir.”

“Don’t even think about it,” he said wickedly as he kissed me again.

"I love you, sir." I told him softly, afraid of his response. But he looked at me with wild eyes and a hint of a smile on his handsome features.

“I love you too, Jeeves.”

The fire eventually died out, leaving the room quite chilly. I carried him to his room, as he was still unable to walk, and I admit we were both a bit unsteady in the knees.

I laid him smoothly on the bed and took the now slightly damp blanket and towels from his bare body. I lifted the covers and he carefully slipped under them. I disrobed and joined him under the coverlet. We lay on our sides, his chest firmly against mine, my arm draped around his body.  
We could not do much more than kiss and explore our bodies, for anything else would pain Mr. Wooster’s ankle too much. But he assured me there was no rush and that we had all the time in the world. My heart felt like it would burst with joy.

~*~

We lay side by side in my bed, cosily snuggled together. My injured leg was painful, but not too bad to bear. The egg that had developed  
throbbed, but luckily it was on the outside of my ankle, so I could place my injured left leg on top of my right, so the painful bits wouldn’t actually bump. As long as I kept my ankle or foot from moving, I would be right as rain. Jeeves lay propped up on his elbow and was stroking my hair, gazing lovingly at the Wooster form. I knew this because I could see our dim reflection in the mirror. Not the stroking my hair bit; I could actually feel that, of course. I saw myself smiling, knowing Jeeves had not yet spotted said d. r. in the m. I could tell this because of the expression on his face. Instead of stuffed frog, he gazed down upon me as if I were a delicate vase that should not be broken under any circumstances. Jeeves had, just a few hours before, opened up to me, so I was quite chuffed that my man was capable of showing real emotion. Some part of me told me not to be silly, another part made me tingly all over and embraced the W. heart.  
It is difficult to describe the exact expression Jeeves wore at that moment. There was a slight lift of the left corner of his lips from what I could make out of it in the shadowy darkness. But the look in his eyes intoxicated me. They shone a dark blue and he looked at my form with nothing more than honest honestness. I began to wonder why this paragon of men would take up with me, and I shivered at the thought of him biffing of once he grew tired of me. I should have known better, of course, but it’s hard enough for me to control my own actions, let alone my own thoughts.

Jeeves ceased stroking my hair and looked up, watching my dazed expression in the mirror. He looked startled as he examined my somewhat perturbed form, the stuffed frog mask firmly back in place, mind.

“We make an odd couple don’t we, Reg?” I saw the corner of his mouth twitch at the use of his given name, indicating to him that nothing was wrong. I had only let the Wooster thoughts go off the track.

He bent down to kiss my ear, not unlocking his eyes from mine. “Indeed we do, sir,” he whispered softly, making the hairs of my neck stand upright. I shivered again, a pleasant shiver this time.

“Bertie, please,” I said softly and wiggled somewhat closer against his broad chest and, closing my eyes, sighed in pleasure. He threaded his fingers in my hair, which felt absolutely spiffing. Had I been a cat I would have purred.

“Is there something on your mind, Bertie?” he asked carefully, sounding somewhat concerned.

I sighed heavily, cursing myself inwardly for letting my thoughts slip. He seemed to notice this and cupped my jaw with the palm of his hand, turning my face to his and kissing me gently on the lips.

When I had regained my senses, Jeeves’s kisses having turned the bean into a puddle of goo, I turned my head slightly to look at him. “It’s nothing old thing, I just let my mind slip for a tick and, well...” I stammered. Jeeves looked at me patiently, silently urging me to continue. I looked at him, afraid of what might come if I spoke these words aloud. “It’s just, I can’t see why you would set your heart on me. That is, well, I know I'll have an estate and a title one day. But that’s not what I mean. I mean, that, well... You’ve heard my friends and relatives. I am an ignorant young slob, with insignificant grey material and nothing to offer except…”

“Enough,” he barked, surprising both himself and me with his sudden exclamation. “Enough,” he said again, far more gently. Hugging me close he continued. “Please, do not speak of yourself like that. Do you honestly think that I care for the opinions of other people?”

“Careful of the old leg, old fruit,” I told him quietly, and he loosened his grip on me just a bit, still holding me firmly, which suited this Wooster just fine, thank you very much.

“You possess a gentle nature, a Code that stands above all others, and most of all a golden heart that serves everyone but yourself.” He had a thingness in his eyes I could not identify. It scared me, but made me feel warm and secure inside at the same time. “They have no right to speak of you that way. Do you really think I am in your bed for your money?” Something died in his eyes at that moment and I hated myself for it.

“No! I didn’t mean it to come out like that,” I answered quickly, afraid I might have insulted him. He just looked at me, the thingness in his eyes intensifying to something cloudy and misty.

“Do you not think I wonder, too?” He looked away for a moment before fixing his gaze with mine once again and I could see the sadness in his eyes clearly now. “Why would you choose me out of all others. I am part of the serving classes, a mere valet, not adequate for the fine blood that you possess. I have nothing to offer you but my love.”

I turned around and hugged him close, not caring about the shot of pain that coursed through me as I moved my ankle. “I know, and I care nothing about your social class. I love you, and nothing will ever change that. I meant what I said tonight, Jeeves.”

“And so did I, sir. Please, do not trouble yourself more with attitudes of other people.”

“Jeeves?”

“Mmmh?”

“You are not a mere servant, you are a paragon.”

“And you are not ignorant, dear Bertram. We both know better,” Jeeves answered, and that simple statement concluded all.

“Yes we do. I love you Reg,” I said as I kissed his throat softly.

I turned around to make myself as comfy as I possibly could, and his arm came up to hold me. I knew my ankle would hurt like the bally dickens in the morning and that the painkillers would probably wear off during the middle of the night. I braced myself for a sleepless night.

“I love you too, sir.”

Old habits die hard I supposed as we snuggled close. Everything that had happened tonight had happened for a reason and I considered myself lucky for finally having my man where he belonged.


End file.
